


summer (light is halved)

by beanierose



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, hyper-confident katya, it's also kind of accidentally a girl next door songfic, it's based on that one tumblr post, plant mom trixie, thanks tracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22718947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanierose/pseuds/beanierose
Summary: trixie and katya are neighbours, and katya hears some disconcerting things on the other side of the fence
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 26
Kudos: 182





	summer (light is halved)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stutter/gifts).



> Writing is often thought of as a solitary experience, but it isn’t like that for me at all. I am so fortunate to have the most wonderful, supportive, enthusiastic friends in my life, who are there to cheer me on at three in the morning and light up my documents and also my life. Thank you all so much for believing in me. I love you very dearly.
> 
> The whole point of this day is about love, so it's only fitting that this piece be dedicated to [stutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stutter). There isn't anything more I can say to you that I haven't already said — and I will continue to tell you every day — but it's important to me that the world knows how much I adore you, and how grateful I am for your presence in my life.
> 
> This one is based on [this tumblr post](https://robotmango.tumblr.com/post/162202229684/me-crouched-down-in-front-of-my-tomato-plants)!

Title is from Pablo Neruda’s _Ode to Tomatoes_

* * *

Trixie takes pleasure in getting grass stains on her knees. When she was a little girl and she came back home from playing outside all day with her dress and tights scuffed and chlorophyll-sticky, she’d have to scrub and scrub the fabric while her mother loomed over her. Her mother had been overjoyed to have a daughter after two large, loud boys, but Trixie spent most of her childhood trying to be larger and louder than her brothers. She was rough, unladylike, unacceptable. Now that she’s an adult, she has a pair of overalls just for gardening that can get as stained and filthy as she likes.

The sun is pleasantly warm against the back of Trixie’s neck and she can smell sunscreen on herself. Her skin feels soft and elastic and she absently brushes her fingertips over her opposite forearm as she kneels to inspect her babies. It’s the kind of weather that makes her want to be touched, makes her wish she had someone to feel how smooth her thighs are and appreciate how her lotion makes her smell like grapeseed oil. Trixie is at her most beautiful in the summertime.

Her scalp is made itchy with sweat inside her straw sunhat, and her skin is slippery behind her ears and between her thighs, too. After she’s done out here she’ll take a cool, indulgent shower and spend the rest of the day pottering barefoot around the house in a matching loungewear set with her hair air-drying all down her back.

She has a colander tucked in one elbow, a white enamel one that she chose specifically because it looks pretty in her Instagram posts. She likes the contrast, likes filling it up with sugar snap peas or broccoli or strawberries. Her sheets are hung up on the line and swaying lazily behind her in the light breeze, and she can hear the record player in the living room through the open window over the kitchen sink.

Trixie kneels in front of her tomato plants and skims her hands through their foliage to release that rich, earthy smell and feel the fuzz against her fingertips. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, finds herself letting out a soft little hum without really thinking about it. The warm day and the earth beneath her knees is making Trixie feel dreamy and in love with the whole world.

And then her fingers brush up against something incorrect, something imperfect. Trixie opens her eyes and leans in closer to inspect a pattern of insect bites on the lower leaves of several of the plants. A loud gasp punches out of her and she almost topples headfirst right into the garden bed, has to throw out a hand to brace herself against.

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this,” Trixie finds herself saying. “I’m going to kill them for you. Don’t worry, babies. I’m going to murder every single son of a bitch who ever got a mouthful of you. They’ll die screaming.”

“Oh!” Trixie’s head snaps up towards the source of the noise and she sees her neighbour peering down at her over the fence. “Okay. You’re talking to the plants. Okay.”

Trixie caws a laugh and gets to her feet. Her gardening gloves fall out of the little pouch pocket of her overalls as she straightens and she has to duck back down again to pick them up, made clumsy by her neighbour’s vibrant blue eyes and the concerned stitch between her brows.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god. Hi! I’m Katya.” She extends her arm over the top of the fence and sways in a way that suggests she’s standing on tiptoe in order to reach.

Trixie huffs a hot breath through her nose. “I know, girl,” she says, and wipes her hands off against the thighs of her overalls so she can shake Katya’s hand. There’s still some dirt beneath her short nails and in the cracked lines of her knuckles, but Katya’s grip is firm and sure.

“Right!” Katya says brightly. “Sure, sure, sure.”

They’ve been neighbours for four months — not that Trixie is counting — and she’s accepted packages for Katya a couple of times. She’s not proud of how she’d peered around Katya’s body in the doorway to try and glimpse inside her house. Or of how she’d stood in her own entryway with a package in her hands and tried to sound out the unruly jumble of consonants that form Katya’s last name.

“What’s _your_ name, hon?” Katya prompts when Trixie lets go of her hand. Her mouth curves into a wide smile; Trixie’s brain balloons.

“It’s Trixie.”

Katya has her forearms braced against the top of their shared fence now, her chin resting on top of her clasped hands. It’s peculiar to look at her disembodied like this, but Trixie knows what she looks like. Her office is at the front of the house, so she gets to see Katya walk by every day, twice a day, on her way to and from work. She also knows what kind of music she likes to listen to (Russian pop from the 90s, if Trixie’s guesses are correct) and that she smokes a cigarette first thing in the morning and last thing at night. And what kind of underwear she wears.

Since Katya moved in next door, and Trixie watched through the slats in her blinds as she hefted boxes down the driveway and her biceps strained, Trixie has taken to only hanging her nicest clothes out on the line in the backyard. The huge comfy t-shirts she likes to sleep in and the underwear that’s getting grey and threadbare all stays firmly inside the house, where Katya can’t catch a glimpse. Trixie doesn’t need her granny panties fluttering in the breeze.

“Trixie,” Katya says warmly. “I’m so glad to put a name to your pretty face, finally.”

Trixie’s entire body goes hot and she has to shift her weight. They’ve only spoken a handful of times, but every time Trixie even sees Katya her heart kicks over and her hips twitch. When she texted the group chat that she had a new hot neighbour, Pearl and Shea had invited themselves to Trixie’s house that weekend and pestered her the entire time to go over and ask if Katya had any new IKEA furniture she needed a big strong dyke to help her assemble. She’d squirmed around on the couch and swatted at both of them, pink up to the tips of her ears at the thought of ever having a conversation with her neighbour, whose name she didn’t even know then.

“I’m sorry if you thought you were living next door to a sociopath for a second,” she finally manages to say.

Katya’s grin gets sly, pointy at the corners, and she says, “Oh, I already thought that. Not because of this.”

“Bitch!” Trixie squawks, and Katya hops around with glee and lets out an arpeggio of delighted giggles. It’s so strange only being able to see her from the chin up, like she’s a carnival head. It makes Trixie brave. “Hey. I made lemonade earlier, if you want to come over and have some?”

“You made _lemonade_ , Trixie?” The way she says Trixie’s name, like she’s so thrilled she finally gets to and she’s relishing the crisp feeling of it in her mouth, makes sweat prickle all along the length of Trixie’s spine.

“I did. With homegrown lemons. It’s good!”

Katya nods very seriously. “I’m questioning neither your culinary nor botanical expertise. Stay right there.”

She disappears for a moment and Trixie anticipates a knock on the garden gate, or maybe even the front door, but then there’s a strange dull thud and Katya reappears much higher. She plants both hands on top of the fence and swings her legs up and over, vaulting it as easily as if it were a pommel horse and landing gracefully in the grass on Trixie’s side. She’s wearing jean shorts and a cut-off ringer tee that shows a slice of toned stomach, and her feet are bare.

“Hi!” she says when she turns around. “Hello, hi. It’s nice over here. Are these your babies?” She glances at the tomato plants Trixie’s still standing uselessly in front of.

“Yeah. See how the leaves are all chewed there at the bottom?”

Katya goes right to her knees to look, and Trixie stands over her and tries not to think about the way her thighs have spread out over her calves.

“I see now why this made you homicidal.” Katya looks up over her shoulder to grin at Trixie. Her hair is curly and pulled up half out of her face, but pieces tumble down onto her forehead.

“Mama, I’m a pacifist — I’m a _vegetarian_ — but I can’t have this. This is no way to live.”

Katya nods several times in rapid succession and chews on her bottom lip. She’s got red lipstick on her teeth but Trixie doesn’t point it out; she likes it. She likes looking at Katya. The sun is at its zenith and Katya’s squinting up at Trixie, trying to shield her eyes with one hand. She has tattoos on her fingers, and several rings, and her nails are perfectly shaped and red. Trixie presses her dry tongue to the roof of her mouth.

“You wanna help me out? While you’re down there.”

“Yeah!” Katya says.

Trixie wants to touch her fingers to the back of Katya’s head and feel how her scalp is sweaty. She can see her t-shirt clinging to the skin between her shoulder blades, can see how her muscles ripple when she moves her arms.

“They should be ripe now. Try just twisting one of them and it should pop right off the vine if they’re good.”

Katya does, and when the tomato tumbles easily into her hand she makes a loud, childlike noise of glee and turns that wide-open smile up towards Trixie again. “You grew these! I think that’s really cool.”

“Shut up,” Trixie huffs.

“No, I’m serious. You nurtured something. That’s really amazing, Trixie.”

When Katya startled her earlier she dropped the colander on the grass. She collects it and crouches down next to Katya, holds it for her while she harvests all of the tomatoes that are ready and drops them carefully into it. Some of them have grown looking pretty goofy and Katya takes care to show those ones to Trixie. One of them looks like it has a long, thin nose and Katya makes up an insane voice for it and improvises a little monologue that makes Trixie honk a laugh.

Once she’s picked all the tomatoes, Katya straightens up again and immediately starts bouncing on the balls of her feet. “What now, what now?”

“You wanna come inside? We can rinse them through and give them a taste test.”

Katya heads right for the open french door without even answering the question and Trixie hustles behind her. Just inside the doorway, Katya stops with her hands on her hips and slowly surveys Trixie’s living space.

“It’s _very_ pink in here.”

“You hate it,” Trixie says, and opens the refrigerator door to get the pitcher of lemonade.

When she closes the door again, Katya is right there and that little crease is back between her brows. “What? No. I think it’s lovely. It’s so you. You have a strong aesthetic vision. I like it.”

Trixie busies herself filling two tall pink glasses with ice and pouring the lemonade into them, rinsing the freshly picked tomatoes through with cold water. While she works, Katya hefts herself up to sit on the kitchen countertop right next to the sink and swing her legs so her heels drum arrhythmically against the cabinet below. The Dolly record she put on before she went outside is on its last track, and the thought of existing in the silence with Katya makes her heart plummet down into her stomach like a lead weight on a string.

“You wanna choose a new record?”

“I sure do. In just a second. Come here first.” Katya widens her knees to make a space between them. Trixie stands with both hands hooked around the fastenings of her overall straps and regards Katya for a moment, then moves to stand just in front of her. Katya tilts her head and says, “You have a little dirt on you.”

It isn’t on purpose, but Trixie holds her breath as Katya’s warm thumb sweeps across her cheek a couple times. It comes away brown and she shows it to Trixie conspiratorially. Trixie turns on the faucet and guides Katya’s fingers beneath it, the water cool and lovely running over both of their hands.

“Gotta keep you perfect,” Katya says when the water is shut off. “You’re so pretty, Trixie Mattel.”

Trixie grunts a little noise of surprise, a soft little _huh!_ that makes Katya smile. “I didn’t tell you my last name.”

“I know. One of your bills was accidentally in with my mail one day. I saw it on there.” Katya looks down at her own knees, so close to touching Trixie’s. “But I just put it in your mailbox instead of giving it to you because I was so shy to talk to you. And I’ve been wondering what that _B_ was for ever since.”

Trixie wrinkles her nose. “It’s Beatrice, but-”

“No,” Katya agrees right away. She reaches up and touches Trixie’s cheek again, clean now and radiating the warmth of the day. “You’re Trixie.”

They stand just like that, the moment iridescent and shimmering around them, until the music stops playing. Katya hops down from the counter and goes to thumb through Trixie’s record collection, organised alphabetically and neatly stored on the shelf. While her back is turned, Trixie covers her face with both hands and huffs a breath into her palms as quietly as she can.

For four months, she’s been gathering morsels of information about Katya like she needs them to see her through the winter. And now here she is, right in Trixie’s living room, smiling and touching her. Trixie still remembers the sting of surprise and pleasure that had gone through her when she saw Katya had hung up a bisexual pride flag in her front window for June. She’d had to order a lesbian one of her own from an online store and when it’d come a couple days later she’d wanted to rush over and show it off. Instead she hung it up in her office, so that Katya would be sure to see it when she walked by. It felt juvenile and silly, like passing notes in class. _See, I’m like you_.

“Trixie, I don’t want to break this. Can you show me?” Katya calls out to her, holding aloft the record she’s picked. It’s _Come To My Garden_ , and Trixie grins.

“Good choice.”

Katya stands with her mouth agape while Trixie loads the vinyl onto the player and sets the needle down. It makes her face feel hot, and she tucks her hair back behind her ear. When Minnie Riperton’s voice fills the space, Trixie heads back for the kitchen and Katya bounces along behind her, swaying her hips and spinning around a couple times.

The colander is still in the sink and Trixie sets it down on the countertop instead and gestures towards it. Standing in front of the open window like this, the breeze drifts over the exposed skin of her arms and it feels like being touched.

“You pick a good one for me,” Katya says. She’s leaning against the counter with her hands either side of her hips and her elbows bent, watching Trixie.

Trixie takes her time sifting through all the tomatoes in the colander, looking for one that’s plump and taut. She wants to see Katya burst it between those perfect teeth, wants to see her eyes flutter closed and hear her moan softly. When she’s found a good one she offers it up. Katya doesn’t move her hands to take it; she lifts her chin and parts her lips.

Pink pleasure blooms ecstatically up the column of Trixie’s throat and into her cheeks and ears. She feeds the tomato to Katya slowly, letting her fingertips linger against Katya’s mouth. Her lips are so warm and soft even beneath her lipstick and she lets out a tiny hum. Trixie drops her hand and watches Katya chew happily and swallow, watches her smile stretch so wide again.

“Delicious, Miss Trixie. You have green fingers.”

“I have red fingers now.” Trixie shows her the lipstick smudges, and Katya throws her head back on a laugh.

“Sorry about that.”

Trixie has a strange impulse to reach out, to try and reassure Katya. Instead, her hands settle at the buckles of her overalls again. “No, I. . .I like it.”

“That’s good to know.” Katya lifts both eyebrows. After staring at Trixie for a long moment, she nods her head towards the tomatoes in the colander and says, “Try one. You grew them, mama.”

She wonders if Katya will return the favour, and then the thought of Katya touching her mouth makes her heart feel suddenly enormous and sticky and she hurries to pick one out for herself, before Katya gets the chance. They’re good, and Trixie smiles around her mouthful.

“I’ve grown a ton of things. You wanna try something else? I just picked string beans yesterday.”

Trixie turns to head for the refrigerator, but Katya captures her wrist in the circle of her fingers and keeps her right where she is. “Trixie,” she says, and her voice sounds light and malleable with amusement. “I’m not here for your produce.”

“You’re not?” Trixie doesn’t understand why she’s whispering, and she can’t seem to do anything about it.

“I’m not,” Katya confirms. “I’ve been wanting to get to talk to you since I saw you, the day I moved in. I’ve just been waiting for the right opportunity. I didn’t think it would present itself to me in the form of a homicidal rampage but,” she continues right through Trixie’s indignant spluttering, “You know, we gotta take our chances where they come.”

It’s warm even inside the house and the whole kitchen smells good, like tomatoes and lemonade and sunscreen. Trixie feels lazy and dreamlike, insubstantial. Like she could just drift right away on the breeze if Katya weren’t holding onto her wrist, still.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“I’d like to do a whole lot more than talk,” Katya says lightly, and if she notices the hitch in the back of Trixie’s throat she’s kind enough not to bring it up. “If that’s something you’re at all interested in.”

“We don’t even know each other,” Trixie says weakly. “You just learned my name today.”

Katya’s grin stretches wide again, her mouth open so Trixie can see the wet, pink tip of her tongue. “Sure. But. The first time I saw you I felt like I was gonna die. I went and stared at myself in the bathroom mirror for like twenty minutes.”

Everything is taking a very long time to reach Trixie’s brain. She feels heavy, and she feels hot everywhere but especially between her thighs. This whole time, while Trixie has been sneaking glances and longing for Katya, she’s been right next door doing just the same. They’re standing so close together that Trixie can smell Katya’s shampoo, and it feels like permission.

“I could be a murderer. You thought I _was_ a murderer, for a second.”

Katya huffs a little laugh and tilts her head. “I know that you like to sing when you clean the dishes in the evenings. I know that you are a devoted mother to your multitudinous plant children.” There’s a beat of silence between them, and for the first time Trixie sees something on Katya’s face that might be uncertainty. “I know that you’re gorgeous, Trixie, and I know that I want you. So. That’s about where I’m at. What about you?”

Her face is so lovely and soft and open. Trixie’s not sure she’s ever wanted to kiss somebody more in her whole life. “I- yeah. Yes. I want you, too,” she manages to say, and it makes Katya’s whole face brighten. “Will you kiss me?”

Katya’s eyes slam closed, and when she opens them again they’re much darker, almost grey. “God, _yes_.”

“M’not God,” Trixie gets out, before Katya frames her face in both hands and draws her down into their kiss.

She angles Trixie’s head just how she wants her and moans into Trixie’s mouth. That noise, and the exploratory touch of Katya’s tongue at the seam of Trixie’s lips, makes her whole body come awake. She lets one hand settle in the dip of Katya’s tiny waist, and she weaves her other through Katya’s hair to feel the spill of it over her knuckles. They kiss and kiss until Trixie’s knees liquify and her body thunks towards the cabinets, trapping Katya there pinned against them.

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are,” Katya says right against her mouth, and Trixie’s eyes drift closed. It’s so much, to see Katya looking up at her all smudged and swollen and expectant. She lifts up on tiptoe in her bare feet and hooks one arm around the back of Trixie’s neck like it’s casual, like they’ve been kissing for years and years.

Trixie likes feeling the length of Katya against her, and she likes how they both taste like fresh tomatoes. She opens to Katya willingly and groans softly, feeling it reverberate all along her jaw. Katya’s skin is warm everywhere and Trixie slides her hands up inside Katya’s cropped tee to her back. She isn’t wearing a bra, and Trixie feels all the muscles in her shoulders work when she wraps her other arm around Trixie’s waist.

When they break apart again Katya’s breath is coming in these cute little puffs through her nose. Trixie sways on the spot, her body made loose and liquid with want. The breeze is still drifting in through the open windows and the music feels like sunlight on her skin and none of this feels real. Katya’s here in her arms, lipstick smudged all over her face, looking up at Trixie and wanting her.

“Is this okay?” Katya asks quietly.

Trixie nods, a few more times than is strictly necessary, and kisses Katya softly again before she answers. “Yes, oh my god.”

That makes Katya laugh and she drops her arms from around Trixie to take both of her hands instead and swing them. She’s so sweet and silly, and Trixie likes her very much. “Can I- do you want-”

“Uh-huh.” They kiss a little more. Trixie is so hot inside her overalls that she just wants them off, and it’s making her fidgety. Katya holds her in place by the hips and kisses her until she forgets everything that isn’t Katya’s mouth and her hands and the way she smells. “Yes. I want.”

“I’d really like to fuck you. Would that be okay?”

Trixie’s brain fuzzes with static like tuning an old radio and she manages to swallow down whatever deeply embarrassing noise is living in the base of her throat. “Yeah, oh my god. You can do whatever you want to me.”

“I don’t want to do this standing up,” Katya says very seriously. “Not the first time.”

She hasn’t ever been inside Trixie’s house before, but the layout is exactly the same and she leads Trixie to the bedroom as easily as if she were in her own home. Moving away from the kitchen breaks Trixie out of her fug and she does an awkward, extra-long stride to catch up to Katya.

It isn’t until they’re at the end of the hallway that Trixie remembers, and she wails, “Wait, wait! My bed doesn’t have sheets on it.”

It makes Katya wheeze a laugh and she pushes Trixie up against the doorframe and kisses her again, hot and delicious and searching. When Trixie starts whining and her hips rock, Katya gentles her with closed-mouth kisses and the intoxicating skim of her knuckles up and down Trixie’s stomach. “Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll handle it.”

“I don’t care, I don’t care, you can fuck me on the floor, please.” She knows she’s rolling her head against the wood of the doorjamb like she’s out of her mind but she can’t help it. The insides of her thighs are so wet and slippery and she can feel it with every twitch of her hips.

Katya keeps touching her, and her fingers and palms are so warm and light and drifting all over. There’s a laugh in her voice, like teasing, and she tugs down on Trixie’s bottom lip with the pad of her thumb. “Trixie, _no_. I don’t want you to get a splinter in that perfect ass.”

There’s a pink velvet chair beneath the window in Trixie’s room and Katya sits her down in it and goes right to her knees on the hardwood, between Trixie’s legs. The windows are open in the bedroom as well and Trixie can smell the barbecue her neighbour on the other side is just firing up. He’s going to hear them, and she doesn’t care at all.

“You stay right here, beautiful girl. Don’t touch yourself, please. Just wait for me.”

Trixie drops her head against the back of the chair and listens to Katya pad out of the room in her bare feet. She hears her in the backyard, making easy conversation with Trixie’s neighbour over the fence. It’s very unfair, how she sounds completely unbothered while Trixie can’t even stay still in her seat. Katya comes back in with Trixie’s fresh white sheets all bundled up in both arms and drops everything in a heap on the bed.

“You can take your overalls off, if you’d like,” she says without even turning to look at Trixie. “But no touching, sweetheart.”

The noise of the buckles unclasping is obscenely loud. Trixie feels the weight of that sound between her legs and bites out a whimper. Katya still isn’t looking at her; she’s busying herself putting the sheet onto the mattress. It isn’t elasticated, and she’s doing an awful job at tucking the corners around but Trixie’s certain it wouldn’t stay perfect for long anyway. She kicks off her overalls so that she’s sitting in just a yellow tee and her underwear, and she lets her hand drift down and down so she can rub her fingers over the soaked cotton.

“Trixie!” Katya says sharply, and turns to look at her over one shoulder. “What’d I ask you to do?” She waits until Trixie curls both hands around the armrests and then she comes to stand in front of her so that their bare knees are touching and she leans down. “Can you be a good girl for me?”

Trixie opens her mouth but nothing is working right and she has to nod mutely up at Katya, who leans in until her breath washes over Trixie’s mouth and makes her thighs erupt in gooseflesh. Katya studies her for a moment and then goes right back to making the bed like it’s nothing.

She gets done with the flat sheet and starts rifling through the rest of the pile. Trixie whines loudly, “Oh my god, we don’t need the pillows. Get on with it. That’s good enough.”

“These are so pretty!” Katya holds up the two pink velour pillowcases. “Where’d you get them?”

“West Elm, please fuck me.”

Katya snorts and drops them again. “Just hold on a minute, honey. I’ll fuck you once it’s nice and comfy.”

It takes an eternity for Katya to be satisfied. Trixie sits and presses her legs together and breathes very carefully, watching Katya flit cheerfully around the room. When she’s happy she comes back to Trixie and offers a hand to help her to her feet, then uses that grip to haul her in close and pin their hips together. Katya kisses her and Trixie lets her whole body go limp, trusts that Katya will keep them upright.

“I’m going to take this off now, baby.” Katya tugs on the hem of Trixie’s shirt until she lifts both arms and it can be pulled off over her head and discarded. “There you go. Good girl, you’re so pretty.”

She’s wearing a matching bra today. Her underwear matches every single day — for herself, because she’s cute and she deserves it — and Katya hums appreciatively and circles the pad of her thumb over Trixie’s nipple through the cotton. It puckers immediately and Trixie feels it up into her teeth, lets out a low groan.

Katya walks her backward towards the bed and she gasps when her calves bump against it. Her brain feels like it’s several feet outside of her body, being tugged along on a string like a child’s balloon. Trixie lets herself be nudged gently until she’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, and Katya climbs into her lap. She’s so graceful and sure of herself. Trixie fumbles to grope Katya’s ass and her face gets hot with shame at how clumsy she’s being.

“Hey. Look at me.” Katya smoothes her thumb across the soft skin beneath Trixie’s eye and down over her cheekbone. “Just stay right here with me, okay? I’ve got you.”

Katya’s still fully dressed, but when Trixie brats and tugs on the bottom of her cropped tee she pulls it off. She’s naked underneath and Trixie’s entire brain slams against the front of her skull. She lowers her head and opens her mouth over Katya’s tits. Her skin is salty with sweat and so warm and soft, and when Trixie traps Katya’s nipple between her tongue and her hard palate she lets out this surprised, pleased little gasp.

After a little while Katya gets a handful of Trixie’s hair and tugs until she lifts her head. She kisses her again, slow and deep and so good that Trixie’s toes curl. She can feel how hot Katya is right here in her lap and she wants to get her hands inside Katya’s shorts and touch that slippery skin, but it feels so good to do just exactly what Katya tells her to. She can’t seem to move her hands beyond clutching at Katya’s ass.

“Lay back for me, honey,” Katya says. She climbs off of Trixie’s thighs and gives her room to sprawl out in the middle of the sheets.

Once Trixie is settled, Katya slots her thigh between Trixie’s leg so that she can rut against it. She gets her hand underneath Trixie somehow and unfastens her bra, tossing it backwards in an arc over her head when she gets it off. Trixie feels warm and floaty and good, and she closes her eyes when Katya bites at her tits and lets out a long, shuddering breath.

The buckle of Katya’s belt keeps knocking against Trixie’s hip and she likes it, likes the solid heft of it, but she wants to feel her. Trixie wraps her hand around it and tugs. “Can you take this off? Please?”

“Sure! Thank you for asking nicely,” Katya tells her. She gets to her knees on the mattress and unfastens her belt and her shorts, peels everything off so she’s just in her red briefs. Her stomach is so flat and toned that Trixie’s mouth goes dry and she reaches out to touch her.

It’s so quiet in Trixie’s bedroom. Somewhere in the neighbourhood she can hear a lawn mower buzzing, and a house at the end of the block is playing music loud enough that it drifts in through the open window, but everything is fuzzy and cotton wool quiet. Trixie can’t stop making these little whimpering sounds when Katya kisses her, cheeks and neck and tits. Her mouth is red and everywhere, and Trixie closes her eyes.

“I’m gonna take your underwear off now, okay Trixie?” Katya makes her respond, makes her say _yes, okay_ out loud before she’ll do it. They’re so wet that they make an audible _thwack_ on the hardwood when Katya tosses them off the edge of the bed. “Tell me what feels good, baby.”

Trixie is monosyllabic and quivering. Her hips arch up off the mattress just at the suggestion of Katya’s touch, and she says _mouth, hands, please_. Katya’s laughing at her a little bit, a chuckle low in her throat, but she lowers her head and stops teasing altogether. It feels so good that Trixie cries out and bucks, her body contracting with a cattle-prod jolt.

Katya lifts her head, but before Trixie can protest she slides two fingers into her and thrusts a couple times. Trixie’s so wet and swollen that it feels like nothing, and Katya adds a third finger and angles all three upwards, pressed together. Trixie whines and tosses her head back, exposing the long line of her throat. Katya keeps fucking into her, dragging the pads of her fingers against the soft place inside of Trixie that makes her cry out. She moves up the bed so she can kiss Trixie, trailing her hot mouth all the way up Trixie’s neck and across her jaw. Katya is so calm and certain, and Trixie feels foolish for how she’s wriggling like a grub caught on a hook.

“I really, really want to see what you look like when you come,” Katya says like she’s asking her to pick up milk next time she’s at the store. “I bet you’re so pretty, baby. Can you come like this?” Trixie shakes her head. “Tell me what you need.”

“Can you- your mouth. Please.”

Katya kisses her for that, and then she says, “Of course. Yes.” She moves back down between Trixie’s legs again. Her thighs are sweat-slick and salty, and Katya takes her time trailing kisses over them before she finally focuses her attention where Trixie wants it. She sucks on her clit and Trixie makes a ridiculous noise and fists both hands in the sheets. Her orgasm builds slowly and Katya works her through it until she’s exhausted and gasping and her thighs are trembling.

After, Katya is sweet and cuddly and she nuzzles her nose into Trixie’s hair, right behind her ear where it must be sweaty and awful. She’s tracing lazy, concentric patterns on Trixie’s stomach with just the tips of her fingers, so light that it’s almost, almost too much. It takes a long time for all the feeling to come back into her hands and feet.

“Trixie,” Katya says very quietly. “You’re so gorgeous. I’m really- could you- I need-”

Her hips are rocking shallowly and Trixie fumbles to get her hand inside Katya’s underwear. She’s soaked and so hot. Trixie gets two fingers against Katya’s clit and just kisses her and kisses her while she thrusts against her hand until she comes with a cute little shout. It’s so quick that Trixie feels bad, but Katya is kissing her sloppily and she keeps pausing to grin in between. Her makeup looks absolutely insane, and Trixie’s sure that there must be red smears all over both of them. She hopes very much that Katya will share a shower with her later, and Trixie can take her time touching every inch of Katya’s skin.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Katya mumbles into the side of Trixie’s face. She lifts her hand up off the bed like she’s surprised to find it attached to the end of her arm, and drops it heavily over Trixie’s waist.

Trixie giggles and rolls onto her side so that she’s facing Katya. She tucks the messy spill of her hair back behind her ear. “How long I’ve wanted you. I was afraid I wouldn’t ever be brave enough to actually talk to you. Thank you, for making this happen for us.”

A couple of times this afternoon, Katya has gotten this look on her face like she has a secret that she can’t believe she gets to keep, a wry little twist of her mouth. She does it again, and this time she leans in close enough that she can kiss Trixie.

“You know, there really wasn’t much talking.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can be reached on [tumblr](https://katiehoughton.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/reallybeanie), and I'd love to hear what you thought! I hope you're having a wonderful Valentine's Day. Remember to tell the people you cherish that you love them, today ♡


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